


Till a New York Doll took her away

by gross_batpanda



Series: Chicagoland [4]
Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Feelings, Grooming, Gross, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Underage Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7393645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gross_batpanda/pseuds/gross_batpanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another gross punk au threesome for America Day, because why not. Mind the tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Till a New York Doll took her away

If Ben doesn't learn how to properly suck cock soon, George might lose his damn mind. Fucking Ben is enjoyable enough, he's eager, flexible, tight and insatiable--but George hasn't had his dick sucked properly in months. For everything George has done for Ben, the kid’s mouth is still an utter waste.

The solution to George’s dilemma arrives early in summer, when George spends a Friday afternoon picking around at the record a few blocks from the club.There's Maria, looking dour as usual at the register, and a pert ass in a pair of faded jeans, sorting through inventory. The ass looks familiar, as does the stretch of golden skin between the jeans and the thin green T-shirt, and the long brown hair.

“Well, I was wondering when the old man would make an appearance.” Alex peeked around his shoulder to smirk at George, his ass still presented like a Christmas gift.

“I thought New York had claimed you for good.” George hadn't seen him since he left for Columbia three years ago. Didn't even come back for breaks.

Alex finally turned around. He looked good. Still had those bags under his eyes, but he was slim, tanned, and, judging from the bulge in his jeans, happy to see George.

“Got an internship at Phil Schuyler’s firm. _And_ I get Liz Schuyler’s apartment rent-free for the whole summer while she visits her sister in London. _And_ I'm making extra cash managing this place on the weekends. Pretty sweet deal.”

“Why didn't you let me know you were back?”

“John Andre stopped by. Told me I'd been replaced with a newer, younger model."

Maria rolled her eyes. George wasn't certain precisely what she knew, but judging by her bitchy attitude whenever George was around, and her stupid fucking zines about political lesbianism  (whatever the fuck that was), and how her  “riot girl” band was always screaming about killing all the men in the world, it was more than nothing.

George cleared his throat.

“Maria, you know load in is at 8 tonight, right?”

“Yep.”

Alex goes wide-eyed, incredulous. Maria is obnoxious, but her band always draws a big crowd, and George always gives her a generous cut of the door. Keeps her from spilling whatever it is she knows. Turns out money is the best way to shut up women who don't know when to stop talking.

“Shit, you're playing at George’s tonight?”

“Headlining, actually.”

“Shit, why didn't you tell me?”

“Because you didn't ask, Alex “

Maria was just as short with Alex as she was with George. He had no fucking clue why she had issues with Alex, but then again, the cunt had issues with pretty much every man in the scene.

“Well, go ahead and head out now. Get some rest. You know how George feels about punk time.”

“Sure thing, Alex.”

“See you tonight.”

“Whatever.”

Maria let the door slam on her way out.

“Yeah, I don't think political lesbianism is really working out for her.” Alex was less subtle now, biting his lip, and giving George the once-over, lingering a little too long on his crotch.

George ignored Alex and picked up one of the zines by the register. “Precisely what the fuck is political lesbianism?”

“It's when you're an absolute slut for cock, for getting fucked by men, but you stop doing that because you're a pretentious stuck up bitch  who, and I quote “refuses to be an object available for male consumption.” Or something like that.”

“How the fuck do you know this?”

“I fucked her in high school.” Alex leaned closer. “She's a squirter.”

“Jesus Christ Alex”

George must be giving Alex a disgusted look (and for good reason--the state of the club bathrooms after a show are more appealing than the mental image of Maria Reynolds soaking Alex’s dick). Alex only smirks.

“Don't worry, this was before I met you. Besides, you have no room to judge, since you've got a new toy to warm your bed."

George crowded around Alex, and slowly ran his hand up Alex’s thigh.

“No one can replace that mouth of yours, slut.”

Alex grinned. “Oh? Is your new plaything not treating you right?”

Alex was always too good at reading George. He hated it, made him feel powerless and vulnerable. No point in beating around the bush and waiting for Alex to pick everything apart. Rip off the bandaid.

“He's tight as a bitch but his mouth is useless.”

Alex looked pained, crestfallen.“Oh, that simply will not do. This is a tragedy.” Alex ground up against George. “We need to ameliorate this issue as soon as possible.”

“That what you sound like at your business job?”

“Shut up George, you love it.”

George does not love it, cant fucking stand it when Alex talks like some fucking yuppie. Alex is a loudmouth in almost constant need of an attitude adjustment. But he's very clever and can suck cock like it's going out of style. George learned to put up with it. He'll put up with it now if it means Alex will give him head.

“When do you get off?”

“I get off whenever I want, George. I'm done with work in two hours.”

“Meet me at  the Capri 3”

“It's a date.”

“I don't fucking do dates.”

“You want your dick sucked or not?”

Two hours later, and the few other guys in the theater are paying more attention to the show Alex is putting on for George than the one being projected on the dingy screen. George’s cock disappears into the wet heat of Alex’s mouth over and over again.

Alex’s mouth is a work of art. His tongue slowly licks around George’s head, and George can't bite back a groan. Alex pulls off. His lips are slick and red, and his pupils are blown wide.

“Finally got the old man to talk, huh.”

The best use for Alex’s smart mouth is fucking it, so George does. Alex opens up and groans around his cock. If George had his way, he'd do this all night, but Alex is too good and it's been too goddamn long, and he's spilling down Alex’s throat more quickly than he'd care to admit.

Alex spits, because that's what Alex always does, probably because Alex knows how much it disgusts George. Oh well. The theater has seen worse. Alex pulls out a pack of Luckies from his jeans.

“Go for a smoke?”

“Sure.”

  


~¤~

  


“So, this kid have a name?” Alex watches the usual suspects of bums, faggots, and hookers wander in and out of the theater as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

“Benjamin.”

“Fucker still have his baby teeth?”

“He's old enough for the State of Illinois to not give a shit.”

“Daddy issues?”

“Pretty sure his dad is a preacher.”

“God damn, you have such a type. He gonna be at the show tonight?”

“Probably.”

“Well,” Alex says with another one of his smirks, “What are you doing after the show? Or, more accurately, who?”

Ever the master of subtlety.

“If you've got something to say, fucking say it.”

“How's about I teach your boy how to suck your cock? Cause I really can't fly out every weekend to do it myself.”

“In exchange for what, Alex?”

“Take him for a test drive? You watch? Like old times.”

Watching Alex and Gilbert go at it was always entertaining. It'd be good to get Ben some more experience. Might as well be with someone George knows, rather than some random creep.

“Fine. But only if your lessons stick.”

“You've got yourself a deal, old man.”

  


~¤~

  


It's easy to spot George's new piece, even in the packed club. George sure as shit ain't fucking any of the pasty-faced girls with crooked red lipstick moshing at the front of the stage. He's not messing with any of the old guys at the bar, _definitely_ not the crust punks and skinheads scowling in a corner, not any dude with a goddamned mohawk.

Alex tries to keep a low profile. Maria has already screamed “I WANT TO RIP OFF YOUR DICK AND SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT” into the mic while making searing eye contact with him. No need to give her more ammunition.

(It's the weirdest fucking thing. Maria always was a screamer. One Andrea Dworkin book and a Bikini Kill record and she's no longer screaming from Alex’s dick, but screaming about ripping it off.)

Alex spots him at the back of the club. Tall, skinny. Plain white t-shirt, tight faded jeans, scuffed up Converse. Big doe eyes, pretty pink lips. Skate rat hair. He's got a friend with him, a short chubby kid with a pathetic attempt at a beard. Chubby is into the band, but his companion has his arms folded, trying his best to attempt an above-it-all attitude.

Alex keeps scanning the crowd. George comes up from the basement to go to the bar and talk with Andre. This kid, Ben watches George's every move with pleading eyes. Kind of pathetic, really. George ignores him and disappears back into the basement.

Alex kills his beer and slowly weaves his way through the crowd and down to the basement. George is smoking, flipping through Maximumrocknroll. He barely looks up to acknowledge Alex’s presence.

“Your boy’s very pretty, I'll give you that.”

“He behaving himself?”

“Yeah, he's doing the whole, fold my arms and pretend to not care too much about the music thing. You trained him well.” Alex walked over to the desk, and leaned over.

“Anything I can do? Keep you warm till the show’s over?”

George finally put the magazine down, and dug his keys out of his pocket.

“You drive here?”

“Yeah.”

George removed a key from the ring. “Head over to my place and make yourself comfortable. Don't fucking touch my records or my liquor.”

“Got it.” Alex gave George a mock salute. The old man rolled his eyes.

George’s loft was the same. Same old couch, same old coffee table. More records, more porno tapes. Alex peeked in the fridge. Not much, but there was a six-pack of Old Style. Beer wasn't technically liquor, so Alex grabbed a can. He popped in a tape, cracked open his beer, and lazily stroked himself while he waited.

He lost track of time. He heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, so he turned off the TV and tucked himself back into his jeans. The door swung open and there was George and Ben. The kid looked a little mussed up; kiss-bitten lips, messy hair, must've messed around in George’s Tercel.

“Hey. You must be Ben. I'm Alex. I'm a friend of George’s.”

Ben looks from Alex back to George, clearly a little confused about what's going on.

“The old man wants me to teach you a few things about giving head.”

“Get off the couch, Alex.” Alex leaves the couch so George can sit down, legs spread wide apart.

“On your knees, Benjamin.” He rushes to follow the instructions, eager to please. Of course this boy would be eager, soft suburban boys desperate for approval are George’s fucking bread and butter.

George is ready to go, and whips out his dick. Ben stares at it in awe, because of course Ben is the type of kid who thinks George’s dick is the eighth wonder of the world.

“Ah-ah-ah” Alex scolds, and he carefully tucks George back in his jeans. Better for Ben to learn the art of the tease, it'll keep George interested longer. If he gives everything up too easy, the faster George will get bored and move on to the next tight teenage boy. “I know how much you like getting felt up.” George groans, the old man has never been good with delayed gratification, but it's fun to get him riled up.

“C’mon, this shit drives George nuts.”

The kid starts gingerly stroking George through his jeans. He stares at George, silently begging for approval. Pathetic.

“Here, lemme show you how it's done.” Alex squeezes,more firmly, presses his palm against the head. George shifts in his seat. Good. Ben starts stroking more firmly, and George grunts. “Yeah, keep going” _Make him fucking earn it for a change,_ Alex thinks.

Alex offers his fingers to  Ben. “Open your mouth.” He opens up and wraps his lips around Alex’s fingers. “Suck.”

Ben is too enthusiastic and messy, slobbering all over his fingers. No wonder George is frustrated. Alex gently pulls Ben’s fingers out of his mouth, and holds up Ben’s hand. “Like this.”

Ben’s hands are nice, his fingers are long and nimble. Alex flicks his tongue slowly down the length of his index and middle fingers, wraps his lips tightly around them as he sucks. Ben gasps a little.

“Try it again”

Ben’s second attempt is better, slower, less slobber. He's still working away at George with his other hand, so at least he can multitask. George finally pops the button on his jeans, and Ben pulls him back out. Alex gives George’s cock a nice long lick from root to tip, then looks to Ben. “Your turn.”

They go back and forth like this for a while, monkey see, monkey do. Alex has to slow Ben down. His standard pace is frantic, which will only piss off George. No wonder he was in such a shit mood earlier, bad head does that to people. There’s a lot of demonstrating and guiding, Ben has his lips tightly wrapped around George’s length, slowly sucking from his head to the middle of his shaft. Finally getting somewhere.

George stares hungrily at Ben, one hand wrapped in his hair, tugging sharply. Ben whines, and Alex tries his best to soothe him, because this kid is a grade-a whiner. “If he pulls your hair, that means he likes it, keep going.”

Ben powers through, trading sucks intermittently with Alex. George looks sufficiently blissed out, and doesn't take his eyes off Ben. He thrusts into Ben’s mouth, and Ben gags and pulls away, chest heaving. Shit.

“Hey, you're gonna have get used to getting your throat fucked, kid. Lemme show ya.” George thrusts and Alex parries easily. Sucking cock in cars, alleyways, cheap rent-by-the-hour motels and dirty porno theaters made Alex’s gag reflex nonexistent. Probably not bad that Ben isn't used to that sort of thing. Ben watches, and Alex tags him back in. “Just relax. Breathe through your nose. Keep your throat open.” At least Ben isn't gagging as much this time. He's still whining every time George’s cock presses down his throat, so Alex places a hand on his shoulder and gives him encouragement.

“You take it so good, baby. So good.” Ben groans at that, and George’s eyes roll into the back of his head. Alex keeps up the filthy litany of encouragement into Ben’s ear as George picks up the pace.Ben looks a mess, saliva dripping down his chin, he's trying so hard not to gag.

“Relax, just relax, you're doing so good. You look so hot like this.” Alex palms the bulge in Ben’s jeans, and he groans again, harder this time, which sends George over the edge. He spills down Ben’s throat and he swallows it all greedily.

George looks pleased, grunts out a “nice work” before lighting a cigarette.

Alex pulls Ben towards him and kisses him, softly at first,  and more passionately as Ben gets into it. He's still a little frantic, but he takes direction well, and Alex can taste George on his lips.

 

Somewhere, out of his peripherals, Alex can sense George getting up from the couch. He returns with a bottle of lube and a condom and sets them on the coffee table.

“You gonna put on a show for me?”

Ben’s eyes widen from that. Must be green around the gills. But he starts moaning into Alex’s kisses, starts grinds up against him. He wants this, wants to put on a show, wants to Be Good. Okay then.

“No commentary from the peanut gallery, George.”

Alex makes short work of the kid's clothes, then pushes him back so he's lying on the coffee table. He's cute: skinny, soft skin, decent sized cock. Alex is careful, George doesn't like other guys marking up his playthings, so he lightly caresses Ben, tries to figure out which buttons will be the most fun to mash.

“You like getting fucked?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell me what else you like?”

Ben clams up, flushes up around his chest. _Very green_. Well, okay then.

“Ben loves getting his ass eaten, don't you?”

Ben whines out a _yes_ as Alex snaps at George. “I said, no comments from the peanut gallery” He liked giving directions, God knows how many times Alex and Gil went at it like this, with George in control but Alex wants a nice fuck without George interrupting every five seconds.

Alex dips his head down and starts softly licking Ben’s hole. It makes him squeal and squirm, and he's got his fist stuffed in his mouth, trying to bite back the noise.

“C’mon, I wanna hear you, don't hold back”. Ben takes his fist out of his mouth, and the noises he's making go straight to Alex’s already stiff dick.

He keeps licking around and teasing his hole, and then stiffens his tongue and thrusts inside. Ben whines, and his whole body shudders.

Alex keeps thrusting his tongue over and over again until the kid absolutely fucking loses it, spazzing out and cursing a string of _ohshitohshitfuckfuckomygodnonononoohshitFUCK_

Alex looks up, and sure enough, kid blew his load untouched, all over his stomach.  He's flushed and dazed, and George is stone-faced. It doesn't take much for Alex to put two and two together. George always had a knack for picking the evergreen ones, guess that finally backfired on him.

He licks up Ben’s release and kisses it into his mouth. He takes it all without complaint,  as he comes back down to earth.

“First time that's happened to you?”

“Yeah.” He tries to curl up and hide his face. “Sorry about that.”

Alex gets up. He’s rock-hard, and shows off the bulge through his jeans. “See this? That's what you gave me. That's hot as hell. And I really want to fuck you if you'll let me. I wanna see how many more times I can make you come.”

Ben’s eyes widen at that, starts begging and babbling as Alex coats his fingers with lube and slowly presses into Ben. He's a little loosened up from Alex’s tongue, but he gasps and winces from the stretch.

“Do I need to stop?”

“No. Dontstop .keepgoing _pleeease_.”

Alex carefully stretches him. He brushes his prostate a few times, but he's careful to not completely overstimulate the poor kid. He takes his time, waits for Ben’s cock to fill back out, before withdrawing his fingers and finally pulling off his jeans. A few strokes to whet Ben’s appetite, and then he rolls on the condom and slicks himself up.

Ben hooks his legs around Alex’s waist as he pushes in, keening and whining as Alex slowly fills him up. George wasn't kidding--he's tight and hot and the first thrust almost knocks the wind out of him.

“Shit, I can see why the old man likes you so much.”

He rolls his hips slowly at first, trying desperately to remain in control. Ben moans, pants, and thrashes around, and Alex has to keep a steady grip on his hips. He picks up the pace, and Ben fucks back desperately, chanting _harderharderyespleaaeharderyesyesyesfuckmeyes._ He's tight and slick and hot and Alex finally gives over to his impulses and drives into him, over and over, tightening his grip on the kids bony hips. He's too far gone to worry about bruises.

Ben flushes and his eyes widen, and he groand  _fuckimgonnaimgonnashitshitshit_ and then he's coming all over his stomach again in short spurts. Alex loses it and comes so hard his vision blurs out.

Alex comes back to Earth quickly and carefully out, slips off the condom, and ties it off. Ben is panting, covered in sweat, and still hard. God bless the oversexed teenage refractory period.

“Insatiable, aren't you. What do you need, baby?”

“Your fingers. I need your fingers. Inside me. _Please_.”

How the fuck can Alex say no to that?

Ben's hole is stretched and slick already, so Alex’s fingers slip in easily. He wastes no time, and curls them against his prostate. Ben practically squeals at that, so of course Alex keeps doing it until he shoots off again with a sob.

He softens up as he shivers. His eyes are damp, and it looks like he's holding back from crying. Good. The last thing Alex needs tonight is to comfort a sobbing, cum-drenched 17 year old. George gets up abruptly from the couch, and comes back with a damp rag. Alex cleans Ben off, while George lights another cigarette and takes a swig from a  bottle of cheap vodka.

They dress in silence. George is stone-faced, unreadable. Finally, mercifully, he breaks the silence and asks Alex to drop Ben off at the train station.

  


~¤~

  


In psych class, Alex learned about a study where monkeys had to pick between a full bottle of milk in a metal cage, and an empty bottle wrapped in a blanket. He saw slide after slide of big-eyed baby monkeys, wasting away while holding those blankets with a death grip.

Alex is reminded of those pictures, and old spreads of Sable Starr from sunset strip groupie magazines he found in some used bookstore off St. Mark’s Place, and big-eyed Picasso paintings, as he glances at Ben, who is leaning against the window of the car.

The whole thing makes his stomach churn. He's not the first soft suburban boy to fall under George’s spell, he won't be the last, but there's something... _off_. Something beyond Alex’s own personal misgivings about fucking a 17 year old for a gross old man’s enjoyment, lurking somewhere in the unused, boarded-up, cobwebbed “Impulse Control and Good Decision Making” corner in his mind.

They get to the station quickly enough, and Alex weighs his options. He could find some dive that's still open, and get hammered, he could go back to Liz’s and try to sleep, or he could go back to George’s, drink, listen to some records, debrief. He chooses the latter, especially because he knows how much George will cringe at Alex giving him a _debriefing._

He comes back to  George’s apartment with a case of Old Style and a pizza from a late-night joint that refuses to serve deep dish.

George is on the couch, still smoking, still nursing that bottle of vodka.

“You're back.”

“Figured we should debrief. Make a report on your new asset acquisition.”

George groans at that. “Can you cut the fucking business crap for once?”

“Nope.”

Alex has worked up an appetite, so he digs into the pizza while George busies himself with his records. He still hasn't softened. For all his stupid bravado, he's torn up by another guy giving his boy multiple orgasms. It's kind of pathetic, really. Then again, George himself is pathetic, holding court over a bunch of us less punks to make up for a lack of literally any other interesting or redeeming quality.

Alex takes a break from inhaling a slice, and looks straight at George.

“Be careful with him.”

“The fuck do you mean, Alex?”

“He's young, inexperienced, and eager to please. He's liable to catch feelings.”

Feelings are George’s sworn enemy. He's incapable of any relationship that isn't a calculated exchange of things George wants, and spurned teenage lovers would cause him all kinds of trouble. George looks unimpressed by the advice.

“That hasn’t happened before. I know what I'm doing.” George takes another drag on his cigarette. “You turned out fine.”

“That's because I was sucking dick as a part-time job when I met you. You couldn't screw me up if you tried.” _Other assholes did the job for you_ remained unspoken.

George looks about ready to toss Alex from the loft, so he changes tactics. Softens up a little.

“He's pretty at least. He'll probably get better at giving head with some practice. He's a decent fuck.”

George grimaces at that. “I could tell that he was quite taken with you.”

Fuck softness. Alex slams down his beer can with a little too much force. “Oh for fucks sake George, are you seriously whining because you got to watch your boy get off three times in a row? Get a real problem. Now you know what to do next time. Jesus. I think these suburban kids have spoiled you.”

“I don't think I've ever been called spoiled before.”

“There's a first time for everything, old man.”

He winds up crashing on the couch after getting hammered on shit beer and shittier vodka, but he leaves early, before George can wake up and demand a fuck or another blowjob.

There's a print on the passenger window where Ben had laid his head the night before.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
